


Paper Planes

by SummerSnowflake



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Canon Universe, Gen, M/M, Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Paper Airplane, Paper Plane, Some chapters may be rated T
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-26
Updated: 2016-12-28
Packaged: 2018-08-07 15:51:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 12,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7720702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SummerSnowflake/pseuds/SummerSnowflake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grab. Fold. Throw. Wait. Messages through paper planes. It seems so childish, yet these incidents are what make life so bittersweet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Alfred's Paper Planes

_**Paper Airplane Through the Window** _

_**Alfred Jones** _

* * *

 Alfred Jones sits in his apartment. He should be working- he's not.

He sighs heavily and leans back in his office chair. The breath warms the air, if only a little. It was autumn, and cold seeped through the open window. The fresh, crisp air was a bit much for the American. He wasn't too used to the cold, especially when the week before had sun and heat. The wind was strange where he lived. If he opened the window, the wind would fly into his room perfectly. He didn't particularly like this wind; if he left the window open for a few minutes, the room would already start decreasing in temperature.

Alfred groaned and stood up. He was impatient and wanted to move around. He took the top piece of paper on the stack of paperwork. He paced around the small bedroom and stared at the paper. It didn't seem too important- to Alfred, anyway. He kept pacing, folding up the sheet. His pacing did not stop, and Alfred pretended to launch the paper airplane as he mimicked sound effects. He then stopped, and refolded the paper airplane.

This piece of paper had to be a perfect airplane, or its purpose would be robbed. Alfred grinned and lifted it up to his face to take in its beauty- then threw it out the window without looking for a target.

Alfred felt hungry.

* * *

 Alfred entered his bedroom with a burger from McDonald's in hand. He was about to flop onto his bed when he saw a paper folded into an airplane on his floor next to his (mostly unused) bookshelf. He grabbed the plane with his left hand, his right holding onto the burger. He was slightly freaked out; how had the airplane travel back to his window? The wind was too weird today to send it back into his own window.

He unfolded the paper airplane, and sure enough, it was his. There was also a light green post-it note with neat handwriting on it.

_Is this important?_

Alfred chuckled. He put both the plane and burger down and grabbed a blank sheet of paper. He scribbled on it quickly.

Not really.

He folded the paper into a plane and looked out his window. Over five meters away was another apartment complex. Had it come over there? It seemed so; the opposite window was open, revealing another bedroom.

This time, Alfred had his eyes on the floor in the opposing apartment complex. He threw the plane when the wind died down for a small amount of time. No one was in the bedroom, and it was dark. Alfred decided to take a shower while waiting. Wait. Waiting? Great, now his head was spinning. He felt that he wasn't intelligent enough to go through the repeating words in his head. But Alfred knew that he really wanted a response from the person living in the other apartment complex.

When he returned, a paper airplane sat in the middle of his bedroom floor. He quickly grabbed it and read the inside.

_Oh. Are you sure?_

Yeah, I'm sure, Alfred replied.

_That looks an awful lot like office paperwork, though. :P_

It's fine. I've got a bunch just like it right on my desk. :P

_Haha, you're so funny. Are you bored?_

Yeah, trying to pass time. You?

_Kind of._

* * *

 Alfred and the other sender kept sending the the planes like this throughout the afternoon descending into night. When one sent a plane, they retreated from their room to wait for a response. They would arrive a few moments later to see the plane on their bedroom floor.

Alfred folded the plane again and walked to his window. He threw the plane and two paper airplanes came into view. Alfred looked to see a shadowed figure in the other building. They both had sent an airplane at the same time. They chuckled a little, until they heard the wind blowing against their planes. The planes flew down into an alley between the two apartment complexes. The two stared at the planes, then straightened their look to each other. They burst out laughing.

It was the kind of laughter that only close friends shared. Yet, they couldn't even tell in the darkness if the person in the other building was someone the knew. The laughter was loud and healthy. It made the cold in Alfred's room turn into comfortable warmth. The warmth in his chest traveled through his throat and echoed out his mouth. It was such a simple thing that happened; yet it made him laugh like a child.

"So," a voice said, "why don't we talk normally this time?"

Alfred answered with a grin, "Sure!"

The wind picked up slightly, making papers on Alfred's desk rustle.


	2. Arthur's Paper Planes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is imported from FF(.)net so the publication dates might be off. But who cares about that. (I do.)

**_Paper Airplane Through the Window_ **

**_Arthur Kirkland_ **

* * *

 

Arthur Kirkland was the definition of orderly. He never disappointed his co-workers, in fact, he sometimes surpassed their expectations. So, of course it would be surprising if one would walk in on him screaming into his pillow on his messy bed.

He suddenly had no motive to work at all. What had happened? He had a perfectly normal day. He could call it normal all he wanted; it was deathly humid outside and the heat had melted away his motivation to work. He just wanted to lie on the bed like a drunk trying to survive hangover. The heat crammed into his brain and distracted the poor man. His mind screamed for rest or sleep.

No. That would not happen. He would not let that happen. He sat on his bed and mentally slapped himself. He needed to work.

He slipped out the bed and walked to his window. He opened it entirely, hoping for a blast of cool wind. He was disappointed; instead, more of the sun's heat touched his skin. He waved the heat away. It was simply another obstacle he must endure to keep a roof over his head. He immediately moved towards his desk.

He picked up a form before sitting. He had a hand on the wooden chair, but he didn't move the chair back. Something had caught his eye. This particular thing made him falter in stress. This would take more than the time he had to finish. His growing stress crunched the form into a ball.

He cursed then threw the form out his window without thinking. He cursed again, wanting to slump back onto his bed. But no, he wouldn't back down without a fight. As for the form, he would have to get another one tomorrow. His day was already over, and walking through his co-workers on how he lost the form would only tire him even more. He sighed slightly and walked out the bedroom. He would feel better with a little tea.

* * *

 

He entered the bedroom again only to see a paper plane sitting on the red rug in the middle of his bedroom. He sipped at the tea and placed the cup on a small nightstand next to his bed. He bent down to pick up the paper plane and saw that it was the form he had thrown out earlier.

His thick brow rose in confusion. He was sure that this fell. Of course, someone could have seen this fall and threw it across to his room. That would mean the one who threw it over must live in the other apartment complex next to his. He shifted towards the window and found an open window across from him. He couldn't make out anything in the other room. He could tell, though, that no one was inside the room at the moment.

Arthur opened the paper plane. Inside was a small post-it note with a message scrawled on it.

_It glides better if you fold it into an airplane. :P_

Arthur stared at the note. Of course, he was a little grateful that someone had returned his form, but now it was crinkled. He couldn't present the form in this state. But was that the real intention of the paper plane? What if someone was just messing with him?

At that moment, it didn't really matter. Arthur took a piece of paper from a blank stack for printing purposes. He wrote on it.

Thank you.

Truth be told, Arthur didn't really know how to fold paper airplanes much. The one he received seemed so complex compared to the simpler ones he was used to seeing. Yet, he copied the folds without instruction, due to not having a simpler model to replicate. He held the finished plane in his hand and threw it out the window.

Arthur received the plane back with another scribbled note inside.

_It's all right. It seemed like it was important, anyway._

Well, it's crumpled up now so I can't present it anymore.

_Oh. Well, I guess I didn't really need to return it, huh? You having trouble? Is that why you threw it out?_

Nothing you should be worried about. Just the heat getting to me.

Arthur, to his own surprise, liked the small conversation he had with the person from the other apartment complex. While one wrote and sent, the other would be busy outside their room, waiting for a response.

* * *

 

He entered his room after refilling his cup with tea. He looked across the floor and noticed that there was no reply yet. He sipped at the tea again and continued to his desk. He might as well get some more work done since he finished most of the cleaning. As he walked in front of the window, a paper plane soared inside and crashed into Arthur's hand holding the cup of tea.

Arthur looked out the window to see a small figure in the opposite room. The figure chuckled, the sound filling the heated air. Arthur joined in once the light chuckles turned into a small fit of laughter. Arthur placed the cup down and walked to the window. A light breeze whistled between the two complexes.

"Now that you're finally here," the figure said, "should we converse normally?"

Arthur smiled politely, "Certainly."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked it! I couldn't really feel much inspirational flow this time, unfortunately. And I had refrained from describing the post-it this time! (Take that shippers.) Thank you for reading!


	3. Gilbert's Paper Planes

**_Paper Airplane on the Balcony_ **

**_Gilbert Beilschmidt_ **

Gilbert Beilschmidt stood at the entrance of his apartment, grinning. He was definitely not going to do his work, he would rather do something awesome and fun instead. His stack of paperwork piled on his desk to a rather absurd height. No one could tell whether physics was working or not when they entered his bedroom. This stack of paperwork completely put a damper on Gilbert's fun.

He grinned, showing off his teeth. He busted the door open. A sudden wind blasted at his face. He quickly closed the door. Oh, that was right. There was a snowstorm today.

Gilbert's grin only widened. What would a little snow do to him? He closed his right hand on the doorknob and his phone rang. With his other hand, he slipped the phone out his jean pocket. He checked who had texted him. It was his brother.

 _No_.

What? Gilbert was about to reply back when he received another text.

_Don't even try._

_Go do your work._

Gilbert got the message then sighed. He muttered to himself. The man then let his right hand fall to his side. There would be no going outside today. He was humming to himself the Mario Bros. theme when he suddenly had an idea. He ran to get all the paperwork from his room. He greeted his pet bird as he walked into the living room with a short whistle. He shoved the entire pile into his arms and carried them to the balcony outside his living room as quickly as he could without dropping any papers. He was about to get the balcony door open when he remembered that it was snowing outside. He quickly grabbed his sweater on the couch with his teeth and walked to the door. With great trouble, he opened the balcony door and set the papers on the floor.

Gilbert happily hummed the Mario Bros. theme as he pulled on his sweater and got to work—not his actual work. He was using that for a completely different purpose. He took the first paper on the stack and sat down. He breathed in the cold air, folding the paper into a complex paper airplane. He grinned at his marvelous contraption and continued making more planes.

Each one was decorated gloriously with a blue permanent marker Gilbert found in his sweater pocket. He was very fond of these planes of his as he labeled each of them with _Gilbert Warplane 1.0_ and _Gilbert Warplane 2.0_ and so on. Happily, he grabbed _Gilbert Warplane 1.0_ after finishing the stack of papers and studied it closely. Would it fly? Gilbert asked himself. What? Of course it would! I made it, so of course it would fly!

He stood up and searched for a target. He spotted a tree next to a balcony two apartments away from him. He faced the left side of the balcony and pictured what his throw would look like. After practicing the same movement three times, he threw the plane and it flew. He grinned as it glided in the air . . . and felt a surge of upset as it flew onto the balcony beside the tree.

Gilbert was about to reach for _Gilbert Warplane 2.0_ when he heard the air beside his ear split. He turned his head to see a gray plane with blood red marker on it. He quickly opened the plane and read the inside.

_THIS MEANS WAR._

Suddenly, Gilbert's balcony was starting flood in gray planes with the same message over and over again in the same red marker. Gilbert took quick action and grabbed his planes which were distinctly different from the gray warplanes because his had black words on the bottom of his planes. He threw them one by one, and all of them landed on the enemy's balcony.

More gray planes flashed beside Gilbert's ears and Gilbert's warplanes flashed past the enemy's ears, too. He couldn't take in what his enemy looked like, though, because he was too busied with throwing the planes in a hurried manner.

Five minutes passed. Maybe it was only a minute. What if it was half an hour? No one could tell. But Gilbert was still firing his warplanes and so was the enemy. Blurs of gray and red whizzed past Gilbert's ears and blurs of black and blue past the enemy's.

How many planes do I still have? Gilbert wondered. I feel like I should be running out by now! A sudden irrational fear bubbled in his stomach. What if the enemy had more planes than him? He eyed the enemy planes on his balcony and realized that he had a lot more planes than he thought he did. Wait, Gilbert thought, then this could last forever!

Gilbert finally ran out of his own warplanes as he took the last of his planes, _Gilbert Warplane 66.0_.

He dropped down as he threw the plane and tried to grab an enemy plane. Unfortunately for both the enemy and Gilbert, the last planes they threw were the final attacks. Gilbert's last plane had crashed into the enemy's neck, and the enemy's plane crashed into Gilbert's nose. Both fell on their backs to the floor of the balcony and burst out in fits of laughter.

Gilbert laid his arms out and watched the snow cover his face.

"That was fun!" the enemy said between laughs.

Gilbert grinned. "Yeah."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hoped you liked this update! Please review if you liked it and have a Loyalty Cookie for reading this far! I'm always open to requests!


	4. Feliciano's Paper Planes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Italy chapter request. Here's your Italy chapter, everyone! _Ve~!_

_**Paper Airplane in the Cubicle** _

_**Feliciano Vargas** _

Feliciano Vargas was, in short, a pain. No one really knew why he always talked about pasta, or why he always waved around that white flag on a stick everywhere. But whenever he did talk about pasta or waved that white flag, his co-workers could only shake their heads and give out a little chuckle. What a pain—that Vargas.

Feliciano ate pasta silently at the white break room table with vigor. Feliciano loved to eat in the break room. He could talk to his friends here when he wasn't in his stuffy cubicle. He was very enthusiastic about the meal, but he cautiously ate to not spill any sauce on the table or the white sheets of paper on his right. What were those papers for? Feliciano shrugged away the question and slurped at his pasta.

He finished the meal and stood up. He threw the paper plate and fork into the garbage and grabbed the stack of white paper after washing up. He walked out the break room and towards his cubicle. He hummed a half-forgotten tune he made up as a child along the way, adding the bits of lyrics he remembered. The steady beat of the song gradually rose in speed and soon Feliciano found himself dancing to the tune.

Feliciano grabbed the top piece of paper from the stack as he sat at his desk. _Construct and Build up._ Feliciano smiled bittersweetly. It had been a while since he last sang this song—over ten years. It was a wonder how he even remembered the song. _The wind will carry it to me._ His hands folded the paper into a simple plane as the song danced in his head. _This plane will fly across the world._

He leaned back in his chair and threw the plane over his cubicle. It glided slowly to another cubicle on the other side of the room. Feliciano felt his phone vibrate and checked it. Of course! He put all his reminders in his phone because he could be forgetful, and a reminder just told him that he was supposed to bring the blank sheets of paper to the printer for a refill.

Feliciano stood up and brought the stack with him to the printer.

He huffed and remembered that he completely _forgot_ how the printer worked and where to put the paper. Oh, well. Feliciano set the papers down on a table next to the printer and walked back to his cubicle.

When he got back, he saw a paper plane on his chair. Feliciano gave out a laugh as he picked it up. There was a message written inside the plane.

_Feliciano, please get to work. You might disturb the others._

Feliciano immediately wrote an answer inside the plane: Ve~! I already put the paper on the table! And I'm not disturbing anyone at all! He sent the plane back to the other side of the room. He gained an immediate response.

_You were supposed to put the paper in the printer—not next to it._

I don't know how. ?

_You don't remember?_

I don't remember! Can you help?

Feliciano sent the plane to the other side of the room once more. He continued to hum the tune from earlier and sang softly to himself as to not distract the other employees. _This plane can fly around the Earth!_ I'm not disturbing anyone at all! _It can fly up in the sky!_

* * *

 

The other worker who was conversing with Feliciano sighed. What will _I_ do about him? The co-worker continued to look through the computer sitting on the desk and suddenly a plane soared from up above. The co-worker grabbed at the plane before it could fall and opened it up.

_I don't remember!_

The worker sighed once more. Getting up, the responsible co-worker started to Feliciano. What will _we_ do about him?

Feliciano looked up from his computer and saw a figure's shadow. He turned and saw the figure holding a paper plane. Feliciano smiled, showing off his teeth, and greeted the co-worker. The co-worker greeted Feliciano in response and showed him to the printer.

What a dependable co-worker! Feliciano thought. So nice and helpful!

"If you need more help," the (dependable!) co-worker said, "come to me."

"Does that mean I can continue sending you paper planes?" Feliciano asked.

"Well . . ." The co-worker's jaw fell. It wouldn't really hurt to let him. "I guess you can."

Feliciano smiled brightly and hugged his co-worker. "Yay!" In response, the co-worker sighed with a smile.

Later, Feliciano folded a paper plane and threw it over to his new friend. Feliciano found himself having fun with sending the paper planes. He laughed at every message he received whether it be serious or casual. Feliciano could also hear occasional chuckles from the other side of the room. Other times, there were a couple sighs or just silence. Whatever Feliciano heard, he was happy. He was so happy.

The other employees saw this many times a day. Feliciano would start the plane messages each day, and each day Feliciano would also end the messages. A different paper airplane would soar in the air each day, and with each day Feliciano's happiness grew.

The employees shook their heads the first couple times this happened. Not only would they have to endure the pasta conversations and the flag waving, but they would also have to deal with the constant plane messages each day. They let out a chuckle and shook their heads. What a pain—that Vargas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked it! Here's a special cookie for CiaoFromItaly (FFdotnet). Thanks for the request and I hope you liked it! Now here are some Loyalty Cookies for everyone else! Please review your thoughts or requests. I'm always open. If you ever want me to write a chapter about a character I already did, you may request it. I can always write more for your favorite characters.


	5. Matthew's Paper Planes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Canada chapter request! By the way, this features young Matthew, and other characters will show up at the end. Hope you enjoy!

**_Paper Airplane in My Dreams_ **

**_Matthew Williams_ **

Little Matthew Williams pulled the aviator hat over his head and stared in awe at the marvelous plane structures over his head. He hugged Kuma to his chest and smiled. His eyes studied the forms of each plane as the bustling crowds ebbed and flowed. Quietly, he walked around the exhibit with his excited feet pattering against the cold floor. The boy happily explored each corner of the exhibit, admiring the works of the planes.

Be it a warplane or airplane, it did not matter. Matthew cared only for the beautiful way each creation could fly into the air so gracefully. That was what a plane was designed for: flight. Planes are built to fly over the ground and venture into the big sky filled with clouds and dreams. Matthew wanted to feel that. Matthew wanted to feel the delight of seeing everything become so small and realize that you are that small as well. That feeling of being small was a gift, because if you can learn to fly and completely realize that, you can touch your dreams.

His excitement slowed when he remembered something. He touched his eyes, and the man's voice echoed in his head again.

_You can't be a pilot if you don't have perfect vision._

Matthew's small fingers brushed his cheek and his hands fell to his sides. He can't be a pilot. He can't fly a plane. The bottled up happiness started to empty, but Matthew fueled his excitement once more. Just because I can't fly a plane, doesn't mean I can't be in one.

His ears caught the excitement of another kid his age, and he quickly turned to listen. As Matthew listened to the child's pleads to his mother, Matthew's face lit up. He followed the small crowd of children clustering around a large table. He looked around, trying to find an empty spot. He didn't want to push someone and end up in trouble. He spotted a space and quickly scrambled in to start the activity. He set Kuma on the floor and looked around.

The table was covered in different colored paper, markers, and crayons. In the middle of the table was a sign instructing how to build a paper plane. Everybody around the table was busy with the construction of their plane. Matthew smiled in excitement. He picked a white piece of paper and folded it with great difficulty into a plane.

Happily, Matthew gazed at his creation in awe. He held it up to the light and wondered what he would do next. He stepped away from the table, and walked around with his arm out to watch the plane.

Matthew ran around, his eyes on the plane. He laughed to himself as his mind drifted into his daydreams.

The plane was a beautiful, brown warplane. It soared in the sky gracefully, leaving a trail of smoke behind its tail. Matthew sat in the pit, laughing as he swerved left and right, spun around, and left messages in the air with the smoke.

The sky was a very clear blue with little white clouds smeared against it like paint on a canvas. Matthew peered down to the ground and watched as the small buildings turned into a blur of hazy colors. He giggled and turned to tell Kuma about the buildings. "Kuma!"

Matthew dropped his arm and looked around. He wasn't in the plane exhibit anymore, and Kuma was nowhere to be found. Where was Kuma? I don't remember. What if I left him somewhere? Matthew's eyes brimmed with upset tears. What if I can't find him? Matthew quietly called out to his unseen friend. "Kuma?"

He climbed back into the plane and started searching for Kuma. Sometimes, Matthew would cry out for the bear, hoping he would find a response. Matthew flew slowly around the building, looking under benches and behind trash cans.

Matthew tried to stay hopeful, but as the moments passed, his hope started to die down. Tears almost began to roll down his cheeks, yet he wouldn't let that happen in front of so many people. He was too scared to ask for someone's help! What if the stranger brought him to someplace scary? The first tear dripped down and Matthew rubbed it away. I can't cry! I have to find Kuma! Matthew flew the plane left and right, trying to find the polar bear. He brushed away the oncoming tears and continued to fly around the exhibits.

"Hey!" A voice called out. Matthew looked around and saw a boy in a gray plane. "I have a plane, too!"

The boy suddenly dashed to Matthew and looked him over. Matthew gripped his brown paper plane to his chest. Who was he?

"You know, you kinda look like me! Hey, Dad! He looks like me! Oh!" The boy rushed his words and bounced as he talked to Matthew. He grinned and introduced himself. "I'm Alfred!"

"Alfred, you shouldn't be running off like that!" A man wearing a green coat called. He held a white stuffed animal in his hands...

"Kumamino!" Matthew shouted. "I found you!"

"This?" the man clarified. "We found him in the plane exhibit. You shouldn't lose him. He told me that he was worried you might never find him." The man held out the bear to Matthew.

Matthew's face was shocked. "You talk?" He took Kuma from the man's hands. "Why didn't you tell me?" Alfred showed his surprise as well, and told Matthew that he never heard Kuma talk to him either.

The man suddenly found that the boy was alone. "Who are you?"

"I'm Matthew, Kumakoko!" Matthew told, thinking that Kuma was talking to him.

Huh? The man's expression was confused. Kumamino? Kumakoko? What?

"Matthew! Let's play with the planes together!" Alfred invited, running off with his paper plane.

"O- okay!" Matthew responded. Matthew placed Kuma on the floor and took off after Alfred, leaving the man to look after the bear.

The man smiled, picking up the bear and sitting down at a bench to watch the two boys. The two boys ran around, the paper planes flying in their dreams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried to update it on Canada Day, but... I hope you liked it! Here's a special cookie for YugiohRulez (FFdotnet). Thanks for the request and I hope you liked it! I kind of feel like I'm cheating you since I used child!Canada... Now here are some Loyalty Cookies for everyone else! Please review your thoughts or requests. I'm always open. If you ever want me to write a chapter about a character I already did, you may request it. I can always write more for your favorite characters.


	6. Our Paper Planes - Gerita

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was thinking of actually taking on CiaoFromItaly's (FFdotnet) request. I feel like cheating you for only writing about Italy when you requested Gerita. This chapter is, again, for you.

_**Paper Airplane in Your Heart** _

_**Feliciano – Ludwig** _

Feliciano looked up at the raining sky, feeling sad. It was strange for the nation to be this sad, especially at this hour. He was supposed to be taking a nap right now, but he felt slightly down for some reason. He pouted and fell onto the bed. What was he doing? He was being ridiculous. Feliciano really wanted to do something- anything. But what could he do? He would rather lay on his bed the entire day, listening to the soft pattering of rain outside. A thought suddenly came to him about the rain and his current state. He chuckled slightly.

_It's raining outside like it's raining inside of my heart right now._

What was the man supposed to do now? He could go and find America or big brother France or anyone to ask them to play with him. Or he could stay here all day. Maybe Austria and Hungary will let him visit for today. Austria won't mind, right? And Hungary would be nice enough to hold back on the pan attacks, right? Maybe I will go visit them. I also haven't seen the place in a while. What if it changed a lot? Oh, but some things would still be the same, right? What if I don't remember which room is where? ...What's up with me? I can't be so sad at a time like this.

Feliciano sat up on his bed, and a strange feeling resided inside of him. It was almost as if he forgot some of his memories with Austria and Hungary. He shook his head and stood up. He wasn't going to let himself get down. Maybe I can hang out with Germany! I'll go see if he's around here somewhere.

Feliciano walked around the house, looking for his friend. He thought of Germany's constant training regimen and realized that he would be downstairs. Feliciano looked down from the railing and saw the nation lifting weights. He looked kind of scary with his face scrunched up like that! Feliciano let out a small chuckle, but it wasn't loud enough for Ludwig to hear. Actually, he did seem scary today. And Feliciano didn't feel like talking to anyone right now. How would he get Germany to notice him?

The usually cheerful nation stepped back into the room he was in and looked around. How would he attract Germany's attention? He then remembered how he was able to tell Germany about his friendship with Russia. Of course! Feliciano could use a letter. He ambled to the desk and wrote a message on a blank sheet of paper, sometimes pausing to find the right words. Now he had to find out how to present it. He couldn't just hand the letter to Germany. Ah, but Feliciano could always send it down to him.

Feliciano folded the letter into a paper plane neatly, hoping that it didn't seem too scrunched up. He threw it around the room as a test run. It flew gracefully, and somehow tugged at Feliciano's playful heart. He chuckled and exited the room, plane in hand.

He looked over the railing, and there Germany was, still training like crazy. Feliciano smiled at the sight, entranced by his friend's dedication. Feliciano wasn't like that, so he admired anybody who always tried their best. Feliciano couldn't help but keep staring at the man. Germany was so strong looking compared to him. He also was kind and caring, making sure his friends are in top condition like that time Japan and him went on a diet. Germany sometimes was too much—his loud voice practically booming across the world when he was angry—but it was all out of good-hearted seriousness.

Feliciano held the plane, ready to send it over to Ludwig. He threw the plane over, hoping that Germany would see it. The plane fluttered and fell in front of Germany's feet.

Ludwig's eyes caught the fluttering of the paper and watched as it landed only a few inches from his feet. He set down his weights and picked up the plane. He turned around to see Italy watching from the second floor. "Italy, what-" He caught the scribbling of pen on the plane. Ludwig opened the plane and read the letter.

_Ciao! It's me, Italy. I just wanted to tell you that I'm feeling kind of lonely. I don't know why, but I feel really sad today. Everything gets better when you have fun with friends, though! It's raining outside today, so I don't want to go out and train. Can you come back and hang out with me? Thank you for taking the time to read this, Ludwig. (I can call you that, right?)_

_-Italy_

Ludwig could have sighed after reading, but he looked up at Feliciano with a pink flush in his cheeks. Ah, Feliciano thought, he also blushes a lot. I wonder why. Feliciano gave Ludwig a quirky smile, one unlike those he usually wore. The usual ones are excited and teeth-flashing, but the one he had on now was slightly upturned on one side with the other side pulled up almost like a smirk. The smile though resonated in sweetness and sadly called his friend to join him.

The blush clouded over Ludwig's cheeks completely. Feliciano was always doing stuff like this. But Ludwig didn't particularly like it. In fact, it was almost the opposite. He enjoyed being noticed by Feliciano. It made him smile. "Of course I will."

* * *

 

_August 6_

_Italy wrote another letter today. He was upset for some reason and wanted me to console him. I said yes and we watched the rainfall together._

_I wonder what made him so sad._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, how was it? I hope you liked it! Have a cookie, everybody!
> 
> (You guys know what happened August 6, 1806, right? No? Okay. [Don't kill me if you do.]) If you do, have some ice cream to soothe you.
> 
> Please review your thoughts or requests. I'm always open. If you ever want me to write a chapter about a character I already did, you may request it. I can always write more for your favorite characters.


	7. China's Paper Planes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: China chapter request!

_**Paper Airplane in My Hand** _

_**Yao Wang** _

Yao Wang grabbed the white piece of paper, frustration building up inside himself. Angrily, he quickly folded the paper. Every fold was an emotion. Every crease had a story. Every flap was a different face he wore.

He remembered when he first did this many years ago. He was feeling strange that day, and he was lying on his stomach, the pile of papers in front of him. He had reached out to the top piece and let it fall onto his face. The paper would flutter up and down with the rhythm of his breath. Every time the paper came down it would cover his eyes, and every time he closed his eyes with the paper on his face his eyelashes would brush on the paper. And every time he opened his eyes the memories flooded out of him. He held on to the paper and a sob escaped his throat. He sat up and folded it into plane, a chant forming in his mind. Let my emotions fly away. Let my memories fly away. Let my pain fly away. He continued making more planes like this after the first.

He then started to fold planes every time he felt frustrated or sad. Each time he finished the plane, he would throw it into an empty room in his house. It wasn't empty any more, the numerous paper planes cluttering on the floor. Each plane was different. Each plane was a different color and often he wasn't home when he made them, so many were made hastily before meetings. One plane held a different explanation of Yao's pain. He felt too much sometimes. Yao never knew how much of his emotions he kept to himself until he saw how many planes flooded the room.

Now, he was running through his mind, picking up all the emotions and throwing them all onto the plane he folded.

The first fold was his anger. It was for the way he wants to lash out at everyone he sees because he feels completely furious.

The second and third folds were his sadness. It was for the way he wants to cry and let all his tears fall away from his eyes to leave him alone.

The fourth fold was his confusion. It was for the way he couldn't understand what was going on inside of him.

The fifth and sixth folds were his regret. It was for the way he wanted to change everything that happened in the past.

The seventh fold was his happiness. It was for the way he laughed, played and smiled in the past, unknowing of the future.

The eighth fold was his love. It was for the way he would stay awake in the nights, care, and caress those he wished to be with.

The ninth and tenth folds were his emptiness. It was for the way he wanted to be so now.

The spreading of the wings was to send the feelings away.

He threw the plane into the room and grabbed another piece of paper.

This is for the way you angered me those many years. This is for the way you made me cry when I missed you. This is for the way you confuse me with that second face of yours. This is for the way you let me wish to change the way I would perceive you.

This is for the way you made me smile when I saw you smile. It's also for when you were sad and I tried to make you laugh. This is for the way you made me realize how much I loved you when we looked at the stars together. It's also for when you got scared and I let you sleep in my arms. This is for the way you made me feel empty inside during those times. This is to help me let go.

He threw the plane into the room filled with paper planes. With a choked sob, he fell to the floor and let his body shake as he cried. Without stopping, he stood up. His tears rolled down his reddened cheeks and he stood at the door of the room. Yao wiped away his tears, but let the sadness hold him down. He didn't want to calm himself now.

Yao never bothered to count all the planes were in there. He never bothered to wonder how many times he let himself go, but he could tell that it was many, many times.

Sometimes, Yao did try to count, but he would become sad again. Then he started folding more planes and would fall asleep. When he woke, he would realize that he was inside the room, surrounded by all the numerous paper planes.

Yao stooped down and picked up the recently made paper plane. He placed it on a small table in the right back corner of the room. He then went to the left back corner of the room and picked up the oldest plane in the room. Yes, it was still there, and Yao knew that it was the first plane. He placed it beside the plane on the table and overlooked the room.

He deeply exhaled with his eyes closed, letting all the stress come out. When he opened his eyes, he smiled bittersweetly.

"I should clean up. He's coming home today."

I should probably stop making these paper planes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a special cookie for kayoi1234(FFdotnet). Thanks for the request and I hope you liked it! Now here are some Loyalty Cookies for everyone else! Please review your thoughts or requests. I'm always open. If you ever want me to write a chapter about a character I already did, you may request it. I can always write more for your favorite characters.


	8. Our Paper Planes - Rochu

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rochu chapter request!

**_Paper Airplane in Your Heart_ **

**_Ivan – Yao_ **

Yao Wang showed up at exactly 4:30 as Ivan Braginski requested. The Russian shooed away the Baltic States and invited Yao inside his house. He held China's arm and dragged him to a greenhouse accessible through the back door of the home.

Sunflowers clustered inside the beautiful greenhouse. Each sunflower was a different hue of yellow or orange, and all of them radiated like the sun it was named after. The sunflowers inside the greenhouse weren't as pretty as the ones outside, it was just how it is. Ivan always thought that flowers look better outside where the sun, clouds, and moon are. The flowers reminded him of happiness and how much it would overjoy him to be able to stay happy with the ones he loved.

He sat at a table in the middle of the greenhouse and told Yao to sit down as well. The other man did so without hesitation. Ivan was always like this, it didn't seem to faze China at all. These days, many things Ivan did never made Yao surprised or shocked. It was an effect of being with Ivan so many times. Yao didn't mind being so close to the scary nation. In fact, Yao often thought that the others were being idiots for thinking Ivan was so scary. Ivan wasn't scary, he just needed to know what was crossing the line. He needed to know what was good and what was bad if he wanted friends.

"Well?" Yao asked. "What are we doing today?"

Ivan chuckled and pushed a stack of colored paper towards Yao. "I want to learn origami."

Yao smiled. "Is that it? Then let's start with a diamond." He gave a sheet of paper to Ivan and took one for himself. He started the lessons slowly, and watched as Russia folded the paper like him. He noticed that Russia's hands were very nimble, though he never knew of this before. Yet, he couldn't always get the folds just right. It was always a little off and sometimes the angle of the fold was too big or small. China explained that while mistakes are okay, if you were a little off with the fold it wouldn't end up how Russia wanted it to be.

Russia huffed softly. He studied China's small fingers that frolicked over the paper like birds. Yao's hands were small and his fingers were thin. They graced the paper, turning what was a flat page into an image that could stand on its own. Ivan noticed the little smile on Yao's face as he folded the paper into a diamond. It is a very soft and beautiful smile, Ivan thought. He was so entranced in watching Yao's face that he almost jumped when the man's hand lifted and brushed strands of hair away from his brown eyes. The strands were short, only long enough to tuck behind the shell of China's ear and have some fall back to its previous place. Ivan felt like reaching out and pushing the hair away from the man's beautiful eyes.

Yao called to Ivan. "Russia?" The other man hummed a response and focused on what China was saying. "Do you want to try something easier?"

Ivan almost grumbled. He looked down at his paper and saw that it was completely different from China's diamond. Yao's was very neat and crisp, while Ivan's was full of creases and wrinkles. He didn't want to try something easier. He messed up. He wanted to be good at origami like Yao. A frustrated aura emanated from Ivan and he almost crumpled up the paper in his hand.

"Russia?" China called. Ivan didn't listen. With the paper in hand, he started pushing it into a ball. Yao pouted. "Ivan."

Suddenly Ivan looked up at him. Yao looked upset with the other man.

"Getting frustrated won't help. You have to tell me what's wrong or I can't help you." Yao smiled then took the paper out of Ivan's hands. "Why don't we do something that you probably know, too?" Yao replaced the folded papers with new, clean ones. "Guess what we're making."

Yao started to fold and crease and Ivan followed. Ivan started guessing.

"A sunflower?"

"No."

"A doll?"

"No."

Ivan was getting a bit impatient. He wanted to know what he was making. "A bird?"

Yao grinned. "You're getting closer."

Ivan softened at Yao's upturned lips. But he still was at a loss. What could it be? A few moments passed, and Ivan still couldn't come up with another answer. Yao looked up at Ivan and thought that he was about to give up.

"A plane?"

"A plane."

They stared at each other, surprised that they were saying the same thing. Yao started to laugh. Ivan smiled at Yao's laughter. They finished the final fold, and Yao stood up. He gestured Ivan to stand up and walk with him outside the greenhouse.

When they exited, the sunlight felt a lot hotter than it was inside. Yao felt a strange feeling light up inside him once he saw the field of sunflowers. He always loved looking at Ivan's flowers. It made him feel happy.

Yao threw the plane into the field and told Ivan to do the same. Ivan followed the action and looked over to Yao, wondering what they were doing. His eyes lingered on the other man's face that shone as he watched the plane fly. Yao turned to Ivan and took his hand.

"Let's go find them and do it again!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a special cookie for Magentacrazedgirl8 (FFdotnet). Thanks for the request and I hope you liked it! Now here are some Loyalty Cookies for everyone else! Please review your thoughts or requests. I'm always open. If you ever want me to write a chapter about a character I already did, you may request it. I can always write more for your favorite characters.


	9. Our Paper Planes - Prucan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prucan chapter request!

_**Paper Airplane in Your Heart** _

_**Gilbert – Matthew** _

Matthew's lips turned up, his smile soft. His right hand touched Gilbert's platinum blond hair. Gilbert had fallen asleep with Matthew in his grasp, and the blond didn't turn away from their spot. Gilbert's arms wrapped around Matthew's middle and his head fell on his lover's shoulder. Matthew could feel Gilbert's breath on his shoulder blade, causing a soft shudder run down his back every time the sleeping man exhaled.

The Canadian patted the boy's hair, relishing in the sensation he was feeling as the two were silent in their apartment. It was a strange feeling. It was as if everything Matthew touched he recalled that many other people have touched it, possibly having certain feelings towards the object. Like everything was different. And everything was hated. But most importantly, Matthew felt himself love everything even more.

Matthew's eyes lingered on a small paper plane on a table in the corner. The feelings were a lot like the ones he felt when he first met Gilbert. Matthew was always told that when he fell in love, all your feelings would crash down inside of you. They said that Matthew would feel as if the only thing that mattered in the world would be the one he loved. But when the boy was nineteen and in college and had met Gilbert, he realized they were wrong. Oh, they were so wrong.

* * *

 

"Hey," Gilbert said. He grinned, and his red eyes caught Matthew's gaze.

Matthew put down the paper he was holding and stared. Gilbert was in his some of his classes, but they never really talked before. Did he need something? "Hi," Matthew said, trying to hide his sadness. "Do you need anything?"

"What? No," Gilbert chuckled. "Why can't I just talk to you?" He sat across from Matthew and rested his chin on his hand.

"Oh," Matthew mumbled. He forgot to pretend that he wasn't sad at the moment.

Gilbert raised a brow. "Is something wrong?"

Matthew shook his head, but then made a concerned face. "Actually... yes." He took the paper in his hand and shoved it towards Gilbert. When the other grasped the paper, Matthew immediately let his head fall to the table in melancholy. "I didn't do well on the test... and my parents are really strict about my grades."

The platinum blond had his mouth open in shock. "You don't look like someone who would fail a test. Are you okay?"

His head still on the table, Matthew shook his head. "Plus, I really want the job I'm studying for. I can't believe I failed a really important test."

"Hey!"

Matthew's head shot up. _What?_ "...Huh?"

"Look," Gilbert tried, "it's okay if you failed. You can always take it again, right? And it's not like you completely failed, it's a 'C' minus!" Gilbert deflated when he realized that Matthew looked even more saddened. "I'm sorry... I thought-"

"It's fine," Matthew said, smiling politely. "You're right, anyway. But I still feel bad about failing." He paused and sighed before continuing. "I hate that test so much... I want to burn it."

"Whoa, whoa!" Gilbert held the test to his chest. "You can't burn this! Nothing will come out of it! And I'm pretty sure that if you get any sadder, you'll burn yourself, too."

Matthew, for the first time that day, laughed. And it wasn't any of those pitying laughs or the small chuckles directed towards fail jokes. It was a genuine, loving laugh. "You say that like it's your test. Like it's so important." He smiled at Gilbert and sighed in relief. It felt nice to laugh like that.

"You can make anything important," Gilbert said. He placed the paper on the table and folded it in half. Matthew watched in confusion until he recognized the pattern of folds and flaps. "See!" Gilbert held up the recently constructed plane. "Now it's a paper plane, and it can be used to... fly." Gilbert placed the plane in front of Matthew and grumbled. "Sorry, I'm really bad at cheering people up."

Matthew chuckled, but other than that he didn't know how to respond to Gilbert. So instead he threw the plane over the other's head. Gilbert turned as the plane fluttered to a stop on a different table. He stood up and walked to the next table. Matthew looked at him, expecting Gilbert to do something. Gilbert picked up the plane and threw it over to Matthew. He was a bit surprised, but he caught the plane in his hands. Smiling, Matthew threw the plane back to Gilbert. The other, in response, to Matthew's smile, did so back, glad that he was able to cheer him up. Gilbert threw the plane and Matthew caught it again.

"I'm still upset about the grade," Matthew said, "but thanks for talking to me." It was nice of you.

Gilbert grinned and bowed. "Glad to be of service." Thanks for smiling.

* * *

 

Matthew didn't want to push Gilbert away. So he pretended that the plane was in his hand and pressed it to his chest. Those people were wrong. The love he felt didn't feel like he only cared about Gilbert. Matthew loved Gilbert because he made Matthew realize how much he loved the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a special cookie for CiaoFromItaly. Thanks for the request and I hope you liked it! Now here are some Loyalty Cookies for everyone else! Please review your thoughts or requests. I'm always open. If you ever want me to write a chapter about a character I already did, you may request it. I can always write more for your favorite characters.
> 
> ALSO, I just recently (very recently) imported this from FFdotnet. First of all, do any of you know how _difficult_ it is to import a multichapter fic from FFdotnet??? I had to coPY AND PASTE NINE CHAPTERS CONSECUTIVELY THAT IS A VERY TEDIOUS JOB YOU KNOW. And I have no idea how popular this will be here, but in the event that it is even slightly popular, please be patient when it comes to requests.


	10. His Paper Planes - Platonic Prucan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Awesome" platonic Prucan chapter request! Sorry if it's not good enough...

_Paper Airplane on Your Head_

_Matthew – Gilbert_

Matthew Williams would rather be at home crying in his pillow at this time. He had missed the first three days of school, which were very important. And now he has to tackle everything head on in one try. But, again, he would rather be at home crying. He was in no place to complain. There were worse case scenarios. This seemed to be very bad, however. Not only has he missed his first three days of the school year, this was his freshman year in high school. If he had a choice to be homeschooled, he would have definitely picked it instead.

He whined in his head and frowned. Today wasn't going so well. His friends in middle school were in only one of his classes, and his brother was nowhere all the time. And due to his quiet and reserved nature, it proved difficult to find new friends fast. Everybody was already in their small circles of friends and talking and laughing. Then there was Matthew, out of place in the busy hallway. It was the inevitable truth that sank deep into his heart and anchored it into an abyss of fear. Matthew was a bystander, and he was alone.

His grip on the textbooks tightened and he gritted his teeth in frustration. But he didn't dare let anyone else witness him in his weakest moment. Especially the teachers, upperclassmen, and freshman jerks. Okay, so pretty much everybody. He just couldn't bear the thought of someone looking at him weirdly, or trying to coax the truth out of him. Teachers were probably only paid to care, and the kids weren't even paid to go to school. So why should they bother with him?

"Think fast!" A boy from all the way across the hall threw a small rubber ball to the other side. With a fast gust of sound, the ball landed in a raised hand of a tall boy ten lockers away from him. Matthew didn't have to look at his face to know that the boy was grinning and his eyes shining.

"Lame!" the boy accused. "I could've thrown in better!" He stuck out his tongue and threw the rubber ball back. Simultaneously, lockers shut with a bang and students filed into classrooms. It was almost time for the bell and none of them wanted to be late. Except for the boy who was ten lockers down from Matthew.

Matthew sniffed and gathered up enough courage to walk into the last classroom of the day. He found it the most calm of his classes. The teacher would always teach them, and thanks to Matthew's limited knowledge of French, it was slightly difficult to keep up. But he enjoyed listening to stories of French fairy tales and famous people. It was nice to have the teacher talking about fairy tales as Matthew worked on his assignment. He figured he should try his best in this class, at least, since he was good at learning new languages.

"Hey! Hey!" boy-ten-lockers-down said. Matthew looked up from the floor (It was to keep from tripping over nothing, he didn't want to look stupid in front of everyone else.) and at the boy's face. He had strange red eyes hiding behind tufts of platinum blond hair. His mouth pinched into a pleading grin. "Do you know where room one-forty-two is?" He looked at Matthew expectantly.

It took five seconds for Matthew to realize what was going on. "Uh... head to the hallway on the right."

* * *

 

Panic rushed throughout his throat. He pulled on the door he just came out of. It was locked. Back to the door he was supposed to walk through. It was locked like the last time he checked.

He was supposed to be on his way to the second class of the day until he realized he forgot one of his books. As quickly as he could, he power-walked ("No running in the hallway!") back to his locker and tried to unlock his lock. With the luck he had, the lock didn't open. He groaned and went back to the lock. After the second try, it opened and he grabbed the book fast and he shut and locked the locker. Then he power-walked once more to get to the other building that held his next classroom. He exited with ease and tried to pull the door open...

Matthew felt a prickle at the corners of his eyes. No. He couldn't. He would not cry. If help didn't get here, then he would just-

The door to the main building opened. Matthew felt a wave of relief jump up. "Do you know how to open that door?!" he blurted. Matthew immediately regretted his outburst. The boy-which Matthew realized was the boy-ten-lockers-down-raised a brow.

"I have a key," he answered calmly. But he couldn't resist a grin. Freshmen. He walked to the building and opened the door. He entered and let Matthew inside before closing the door.

Matthew swallowed the urge to cry and entered the classroom late to class. He knew that this would be the worst second day of school in his entire life.

* * *

 

The phone's clock blinked 6:00. Matthew placed the phone on his pillow with its screen down. He pulled up the covers and curled into a ball. No way. No way was he getting out of here. After that dreadful first two days, who knows how bad the third day would be. His rebellion was cut short when his brother happily jumped on him to get Matthew up. It worked too well.

Today Matthew's face was plastered with a sniveling and vexed look. He was also tired-if that affected anything. He walked off the bus and into the school. He whined through his throat. This would be the absolute worst day. Matthew continued down the hallway to his locker.

For the second time that day, his actions were cut short. But this time it was a bit different. And it led to something strange. A paper plane landed perfectly atop his head. He glanced up and groaned. Matthew was thinking of crushing it into a ball and throwing the paper at someone's head. Though, the boy-ten-lockers-down came running up to him.

"Sorry. I need that." He took the plane off of Matthew's head. As he did so, a small look of suspicion covered his face. The boy must have noticed Matthew's pained expression. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Matthew lied.

"That's always a lie," the boy said, rolling his eyes. "What's wrong?"

"I've been having trouble..." Matthew hesitated, "with school."

"Then just make it fun!" The boy made his way to walk back to his locker, but Matthew's quiet statement cut him short.

"What if I can't?"

The boy-ten-lockers-down didn't want to look back. He did anyways. With a small wave good-bye, the boy grinned and said: "You'll be okay, kid."

Matthew looked down at his hands. He didn't know what to do next.

Until a familiar looking piece of paper flew into his palms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: This is based off of real situations I have experienced, give or take a few details. I still don't have any friends after day 3. They're all gone, and I feel like I am disappearing as well.


	11. Kiku's Paper Planes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Japan chapter request!
> 
> Okay, but first things first. I really wanted to make this "special" like chapters 4-10. And I was thinking "should I do a sad story, or soft story?" To be continued in the ending author's notes...
> 
> Also, I think I ran out of cookies...

_Paper Airplane Through the Window_

_Kiku Honda_

It was a beautiful and calming day, as if nothing was missing from life. Kiku sat at his kotatsu comfortably, drowning out all the sounds of outside in his sleep. His hair fell away from the frame of his face, bangs sliding away from his forehead. He smiled lightly as he slept, and his arms burrowed deeper under the kotatsu to keep from being cold in the cool winter breath. The winter was turning to spring, and the leftover cold wind blew into his open window. Kiku could be called stupid for letting in cold air when he was cold, but he enjoyed the smell of the seasons turning. Occasionally, the sounds from outside his window would become extremely loud, but the teen still slept soundly. He wasn't exactly a deep sleeper, but he could block out all unnecessary sounds if he had to.

He was dreaming. It was about a game he was planning to buy in the spring. The game happened to be a first-person shooter, and he was curious as to how enjoyable games like that would be. A friend had recommended to try it out, so Kiku decided to buy the game as soon as he could. In the dream, he was standing on the roof of a building, surveying his surroundings. Up above him was a warplane, and he stepped away to retrieve a gun to shoot the pilot, but then the warplane swerved towards him. Surprised, his legs started running away from the plane while shooting. He stopped, grabbed a hand grenade, and threw it at the plane. The grenade managed to kill one of the shooters on the plane and damage the plane itself. Yet it still headed towards him. Then his legs stopped moving. Kiku couldn't move, and the plane was going to crash into him. The legs scraped the roof of the building, and the plane skidded right into Kiku. He felt the head of the plane burst his skull.

"AHH!" Kiku awoke in an instant, grabbing at the sides of his head. The boy scurried away from the kotatsu in shock and fear. Surprised, he took in his surroundings. He was in his room, and the only objects in the sky were wisps of clouds. Kiku groaned in defeat and exhaustion. He let his hands fall to the floor and sighed. It was only a dream... But why had the "pain" felt so real?

Kiku stared at the kotatsu and found that there was a folded piece of paper on the table. Curious, he leaned out to grab it, but suddenly another plane dashed into his room. He snapped his arm back and retreated back to the corner he was in to panic.

What was happening? Why are there planes in my room? Am I going to die? Oh no, someone wants me to die. Who wants to kill me? Is it a murderer? An assassin? What if the dead shooter from the dream wanted revenge?

Then Kiku mentally slapped himself. Nobody was killing him, and no one wanted revenge. But that still didn't eradicate the question of why there were paper planes in his room. These two were probably accidentally sent here, that's right. So Kiku waited. He waited for any sign of activity from outside the window except for the sounds of nature and children playing. After a few moments of nothing, Kiku sighed out of relief. The sender probably accidentally sent the planes here-

_Whoosh!_

Kiku was internally panicking. His face was contorted in a state of a frozen and mute scream, his eyes wide in shock.

I'll just... go get something to drink... Yeah...

He stood up and coolly walked out of his room. Though it seemed as if he was calm, Kiku was extremely confused by the paper airplanes on his table. If he just let himself take a break, wake up a little, he could finally go back to his normal self.

So Kiku left to prepare himself some tea while checking how the weather would be during the week on the news. After the tea was ready, he sipped it carefully. He sighed in relief. His mind was cleared and he felt refreshed. Now he could handle the paper plane problem without panicking.

Kiku entered his room with the tea in hand, and was greeted with a mountain of white paper planes piling on his kotatsu. His head spun around in circles, and he held onto the door frame to keep himself steady. What was happening...?

He stooped down to pick up one of the planes and frowned. There was something familiar about them, he remembered. Kiku placed the cup on the table and opened the plane. He cocked his head in confusion. He definitely remembered something special about these planes.

The boy racked his brain for memories. There was a plane... it had something written inside of it. Kiku pursed his lips as he tried to remember. But that wasn't the only plane, he remembered. There were others. He was standing in his room... right here. In front of his kotatsu. He was facing the door, like he was now. Kiku had read the message, and the only word he remembered was 'soon'. Now Kiku was sure there was something important about the message.

It was like a trigger. The plane floated through his window, and it swerved in the air as it flew past Kiku's ear. Then he remembered he was missing something this entire time and Kiku's face lit up in remembrance, then he turned to run to his window.

_I'll come back to you soon._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> But then I was like "nvm i'll just do a traditional one like the first three"
> 
> (Cries) Guys, I haven't had a cookie in the past week! I'm COOKIE DEPRIVED! I don't even have any to give to you all! But I do have something else...
> 
> HUGS! Hugs for everyone! Love you guys so much!
> 
> Here's a special hug for Chizu5645. Thanks for the request and I hope you liked it! Now here are some Loyalty Hugs for everyone else! Please review your thoughts and requests. I'm always open. If you ever want me to write a chapter about a character I already did, you may request it. I can always write more for your favorite characters.


	12. His Paper Planes - Platonic PruSpa

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late and EXTREMELY short chapter; things have been going crazy. I know this isn't a request, but I saw two classmates playing around with paper airplanes, so... Disclaimer: Loosely based on real events.

_Paper Airplane in the Classroom_

_Gilbert Beilschmidt and Antonio Carriedo_

* * *

 

"Smell my hair," Gilbert said.

Antonio stared blankly. "Que?"

"This isn't Spanish class," their Latin teacher chuckled.

"Smell my hair!" Gilbert leaned closer so that Antonio's nose could catch the scent.

The Spaniard sniffed and gave him a quizzical look. "Why does it smell like a campfire?"

"I went camping over the weekend," Gilbert explained. "I wasn't able to take a shower."

"Gross," Antonio muttered. "Take a shower tonight."

"But doesn't it smell like bacon?" Gilbert asked.

"What?"

Gilbert laughed. "Everybody kept on saying something smelled like bacon."

The teacher stood up and began the class. Gilbert and Antonio continued talking, ignoring the teacher's comments. It was strange why Antonio was here in the first place, honestly. Supposedly, Gilbert bribed him into taking the class with him, even though Gilbert could have gone to take Spanish with Antonio. Or Gilbert could have taken French with Francis. And somehow, the world seemed to take its path and the German and Spaniard took Latin together. And they still continued to play around the classroom, drawing on the board or walking around aimlessly before speaking with other students on the other side of the room. Strangely enough, Antonio was the only one holding onto all A's, while Gilbert managed to raise his C to an A through the course of a week and a half. The teacher knew it was all thanks to Antonio.

Gilbert and Antonio threw two whizzing planes at the floor. Gilbert's stopped short, while Antonio's looped before landing on the floor. Gilbert laughed at his plane's failed attempt at flying. Antonio laughed as well, then stood up to retrieve his plane. Again the boys threw their planes, Gilbert's landing several feet away, Antonio's looping before landing on his foot.

And once more the two laughed at their antics.

And once more the teacher ignored them, with a grin on her face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, I'm super sorry, but I'm really trying to not die in the middle of bio class. or english class. any class. have some cookies please i cant eat all of them.


	13. Her Paper Planes - (platonic) AusHun

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AusHun (platonic or romantic) chapter request!

_Paper Airplane in Your Hands_

_Roderich Edelstein and Elizabeth Herdervary_

In all the years of Roderich's life, he never knew that one of the problems he would come to face is wrapped in the existence of Elizabeth Hedervary. She is one of the most troublesome women at work, the most responsible, and one of the prettiest. But Roderich never would say anything about that.

Once, twice, maybe even three times a day, Elizabeth would ravish in the authority she is given and use it to boss people around. "Do your job like this" or "The desk needs to be completely clean!" Maybe her flaunting of power is a bit too much, one would think. And yes, it is a bit crazy for her to barge into a break room and say you spent two extra minutes taking a break, even though the only reason you are taking a while is because you were washing your hands in those two minutes.

"I was only washing my hands," Roderich explains calmly. "I didn't want to get the keyboards dirty from my hands."

"You're still two minutes late," she mutters, strands of hair falling out of her high bun.

"Elizabeth," Roderich says, placing fingers on his temples, "you do know I'm your senior, yes?"

"In terms of experience in this field, yes," she replies. "But I have a higher position than you."

And so that is that. She leaves, and Roderich does not mull over the memory for the rest of his shift. It was nothing but a normal occurrence, he thinks. She always does that to everyone. The day is calm and uneventful, and Roderich could not be happier about that.

It is now seven o' clock, and the work day is over. Roderich has half a mind to slouch in his office chair and groan out of exasperation, but he keeps a straight face and leaves with a quiet mouth. He picks up his laptop, the silent hallways creaking and swaying in the heater air and crackling of keys from straggling workers. When he exits the building, the cold autumn breeze skirts around his hands and coat and hair. Roderich looks around and the world seems to be silent to him, changing and moving without the man. Crossing lights flicker and flash, doors swing open and closed, planes fill the sky with white clouds of smoke. And then there is Roderich, still and silent, unlike the world in which he lives.

He walks right, away from the bus home. There is no food in the fridge, and he never bothered to buy groceries because work always took most of his time. Roderich didn't have dinner yet, and he is hoping that a nice restaurant is still open. His well-cared shoes drum on the sidewalk as he walks. One, two, one, two. He walks slightly faster than everyone else, but he doesn't hear the difference.

There is a figure in front of a clothing store window, staring at a green trenchcoat. A sigh escapes the person's mouth. Roderich couldn't tell if the woman sighed out of longing, exhaustion, or to warm her trembling red hands. He walks by, and upon closer inspection, he realizes that the long, loose caramel brown hair and thin blue blazer belongs to Elizabeth Hedervary, his supervisor. Roderich immediately corrects himself: junior. Elizabeth is his _junior_.

The man takes no heed of her presence, but he feels a head turn and brown eyes blankly watch him walk away. Roderich, hoping she would not follow, walks a pace faster. She does follow, but to his surprise, she jumps at him.

"Roderich!" she cries. "I thought I would never find someone to help me!"

What makes you think that I will help you? Roderich sighs. He stops and turns anyways. "What is it?"

"I just wanted someone to talk to," she says.

Roderich, after multiple attempts of Elizabeth coaxing him to listen, agrees. She smiles in return and grabs his wrist before dragging him into a small restaurant. She is silent at first, and only speaks when the waiter comes to obtain their orders. Elizabeth only asks for water and Roderich asks for a plate of food. The waiter returns with glasses of water, and when he sees that the two have not spoken to each other yet, he stares incredulously. Elizabeth stirs the ice around with the straw and looks up occasionally to an awkward-looking Roderich.

"I . . . have been demoted," she explains softly.

That makes complete sense, Roderich thinks. Of course someone told our boss about her behavior.

"And someone threw my coat into the dumpster," she mumbles. "And I was too late. They already collected the trash."

Well, that's crossing the line.

"Then I lost my keys to my car," she covers her face, "and I don't have enough money to ride the bus at the moment."

"I spent all of my money on the food," Roderich tells her, unhelpfully.

The woman sighs into her palms and frowns. "How . . . did this happen? It's cold, I have no mode of transportation, and I didn't even eat lunch."

Brows creased, Roderich mumbles, "And why not?"

"I've been trying to save up for a coat because the other one—the one in the dumpster—was already ripped. So I decided not to eat a big lunch so much."

"And because of your lack of preparedness you are now stuck in this mess you have caused yourself," Roderich accuses after thanking the waiter for his food. He bites on a cut piece of marinated fish. "This is your fault, Elizabeth."

She pouts softly at the sight of him, calm and not at all sympathetic. The air falls silent once again, and this time it is not awkward, but tinged with vexation. Elizabeth stares at the food on Roderich's plate and he catches her blank gaze. He inwardly sighs, somewhat aggravatingly disappointed in the woman. Begrudgingly, he pushes the plate towards her.

An hour falls past. The both of them are still in the restaurant. The waiter walks by and places a tray with a receipt on the table. Roderich looks at the receipt, and at the same time glances at Elizabeth. She is rummaging through her purse, her mouth in a down-curved line. After a moment, Roderich decides to take pity on her. He pulls out his wallet, places a twenty on the tray, and calls out to Elizabeth.

"Give me your number," he mumbles softly. She faces him, a look of curiosity on her face. Louder, Roderich repeats himself. "Give me your number. That way I can help you."

Elizabeth's face beams with joy. She looks through her purse for a piece of paper and a pen. Her hands take out a small, blank paper plane, and the both of them look at it with a questioning glance. She pays no mind after a second and she scribbles down her phone number. Elizabeth hands the plane over to Roderich. Then her brows crease together. "I'm sorry. I'm dragging you into this, am I? You . . . really don't have to do this."

The man reads the number on the plane wing. His eyes drag over to Elizabeth's face. He pockets the paper plane. Roderich forces his sigh to slow and soften. "It's fine." He stands up and grabs his case. "Make yourself at home," he says with sarcasm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The reason the previous chapter was extremely short was because I was very stressed that day, and I really wanted to update because you have been so patient with me. It was also because when I started writing this chapter, I strayed from the original prompt (the fact that it needed paper planes). Thank you all for staying with me. Also, I'm sorry if this seemed a bit rushed or badly written.
> 
> Here's a special cookie for Chizu5645(FFdotnet). Thanks for the request and I hope you liked it! Now here are some Loyalty Cookies for everyone else! Please review your thoughts and requests. I'm always open. If you ever want me to write a chapter about a character I already did, you may request it. I can always write more for your favorite characters.


	14. Our Paper Planes - Sufin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SuFin chapter!

_Paper Airplane in Your Heart_

_Berwald and Tino_

Berwald has a terrible, terrible secret, and it has nothing to do with the fact that he runs a blog. The problem happens to be the customer that comes by every day at 7:30 am and 8:45 pm, unless it is a weekend or every other Tuesday then he comes at 9:00 am and 8:30 pm. And the man's name seems to be Tino, and he wears a long brown coat in the autumn and winter seasons. Berwald does not make any contact with Tino at all, but he does know that Tino is a shorter-than-Berwald blond with bright eyes and a sprite laugh and sometimes he brings a little puppy with stubby legs and tail and Tino loves to drink a salted caramel cappuccino with peppermint shavings come holiday season. While Berwald knows a lot about Tino, he is certainly not a stalker because the only reason he knows so much is because Abel keeps talking about the friend Tino sometimes brings, Lukas. On the same note, Emil acts strange every time Abel mentions Lukas.

Anyway, Berwald is honest enough to say that, while he is not a stalker, he does have an interest in Tino. It started one fateful Monday morning when Tino entered the cafe and Berwald happened to be posted as the barista at that moment. Tino wore an extremely tiring and grumpy expression.

When the coffee was ready, Berwald called out Tino's name and the man stomped up to him and snatched the cup out of his hands. Berwald must have looked shocked because Tino stared right into his eyes completely worried and sorry. The barista muttered a quiet "I'm sorry" but Tino put down the cup of coffee and gave a proper apology to Berwald.

"I'm so sorry! Last night was rough on me."

"It's fine," Berwald said.

Tino smiled in reply. And maybe it was a trick of the light, but his hair seemed to bask in a halo of yellow light and his smile reached to Berwald in slow-motion. Tino's purple eyes glowed like an effervescent amethyst in soft, shining light. And in that moment, Berwald realized that this smile is just as precious as all the amethysts in the world and more. And ever since then, Berwald has tried to keep in touch with Tino as much as he could.

Recently, however, Berwald has switched positions with Abel in the morning and now works for the drive-through. Berwald was dedicated to getting to know Tino better. Tino would look his way and wave hello, and Berwald would respond with a small nod. Then the other man would small like before and Berwald's stomach would fill with a flurry of strange feelings. Abel laughed when he realized Berwald's plans, saying that it was just like him to plan something like this. But instead of mocking him any further, Abel suggested Berwald actually talking to Tino. Berwald liked the idea but told Abel that it would be impossible at the moment. They were not close enough to talk casually yet. Abel shrugged and laughed at Berwald. They both find each other strange, but their friendship was nice.

* * *

 

Tino is late. Later than any late before. And it is not a weekend or every other Tuesday. It is a beautiful Friday night and the merigold lights inside the cafe shone softly on the wood themed tabletops. Berwald looks out from a closet behind the counter and sees that Tino has not entered the building.

He continues his work, mopping up the floor. Yes, it is so late that Berwald had started to clean up before closing time. And from time to time, Berwald would look back at the door with a straight face, but Emil knows better.

"Take a break, Berwald," Emil says, taking the mop from the man's hands.

Berwald watches him plunge the mop into the water and then nods. He walks to the counter and helps with the orders. Only then does Tino decide to walk through the door. Berwald looks up and the man drags himself to the corner of the room. Tino buries his face in his arms and Berwald feels dread fill his chest. Where is Tino's smile?

It's closing time. Tino is still in the corner of the room and Abel pokes Emil's side. They whisper to each other. Emil gestures to Tino and Abel grumbles. The latter brings the former into the back of the cafe. Finally alone with Tino, Berwald looks at him worriedly. He grabs a paper and writes on it. He places the paper next to Tino's arm quietly. However, it seems that he did not do so very stealthily because Tino realized that Berwald had walked past and lifted his head to see what he was doing.

Tino picks up the paper and reads it. The sides of his lips pull up and he scribbles down a response. Lazily, he folds the paper into a plane and throws it at the table Berwald is currently wiping down. The paper pokes his elbow and he stops to read the note.

_Are you okay?_

_I'm fine. I'm sorry. It's time to close up, and I'm sulking in the corne_ r.

Berwald writes back quickly and, red-faced, throws the plane back.

_It is okay._

_Thank you. You're really nice._

_Oh._

Tino stifles a small laugh.

_You're so nice, Berwald._

_Thank you._

_Why are you so nice?_

_Because you are nice._

_Do you like "talking" to me?_

_Yes._

_Then why don't we start talking for real?_

_Now?_

_Are you free tomorrow?_

_Why?_

_So we can talk!_

_We can talk now._

_Then why don't we talk the way out? We can stop by the park nearby._

Berwald walks to Tino, unknowingly displaying a red face. "Okay."

"Okay," Tino replies with a smile.

Berwald feels the flurry of feelings again, and they swirl and dance around like paper airplanes in the air.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Looks at camera like I'm in The Office) I didn't know I loved Sufin until now...
> 
> Here's a special cookie for Sup (friend)! Thanks for the suggestion and I hope you liked it! Now here are some Loyalty Cookies for everyone else! Please review your thoughts and requests. I'm always open. If you ever want me to write a chapter about a character I already did, you may request it. I can always write more for your favorite characters.

**Author's Note:**

> Who should I write about next? Thanks for reading! :)


End file.
